


Exposition Galore

by Solstarin



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solstarin/pseuds/Solstarin
Summary: What is this?? More time travel crap??Yes.It's overused. I LOVE IT. I will never stop. Have some more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> follow me to replace Y/N with an actual name  
> http://nerddface.tumblr.com/post/151068951688/exposition-galore

“Your opening line has to be something that will catch the audience’s attention, something to make them want to keep going.”

Brown eyes shine golden in the bright mid-morning sun, and close to slits against the glaring light when he turns to her. A hand comes up to shade his face, and his smile is almost as blinding as the ball of fire in the sky, and it warms her heart unwittingly just like the warm rays the sun is throwing on her shoulders. 

“Sounds like flirting to me, _piccolo uccello_.”                                         

“It is!” Y/N pressed, bouncing and shifting a tile on the roof they occupied. “How else do you convince someone to keep reading something if not hook them into it?”

Federico cards a hand through his short, dark hair. “I don't like the idea of you flirting with every man who reads your writing.”

Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes and throwing her head back. “It isn’t explicitly, you idiot, it’s figurative. And you didn’t care for the idea of me writing as a career, why should I worry what you think now?” 

Federico leaned back to lie on the terra cotta tiles, hands linked across his stomach and his eyes closed against the sun. “Perhaps you shouldn't, but remember it was you who asked for my advice.”

She worked out a cramp developing in her left leg and shifted her weight, resting her chin on the knee she pulled to her chest and gazing at the lounging Italian’s sun-kissed face. “I asked for inspiration, _amico_ , not criticism. Save that for when I come to you with a transcript.” 

Silence settled between them for a time when the conversation fell into a natural lull. Y/N studied Federico’s olive skin and felt her cell phone vibrate in the bag at her hip. An insect buzzed past them and a horse whinnied in the distance.

“Why did you choose writing, besides, Y/N?” 

“Hm?”

His eyes opened just as her gaze turned to the city below them. 

“Of all things, why writing? Why this art?”

She turned her lips in a frown. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I simply happen to think you would be a much better _modella_ , perhaps?” 

A flush flared across her face, and she hoped the bright sunlight would keep him from noticing it. “I assure you, I’d be no good at it. There’s no way I could sit around for hours like that.” 

“Fine, then, _bella_ , perhaps a dancer?” 

Her heart skipped a beat. “Much too loud, plus I don’t wish to dance with anyone.”

She could feel his gaze on her as he spoke next. “You would not dance with me?”

“I--I don’t-- I mean--you-- you are--” she sputtered, only interrupted by his laughter. 

“Finally, I have gotten the wordsmith to slip!” he goaded, watching in delight as she squirmed and tripped over her tongue. Red-faced, she drew her other leg to her chest and wrapped her arms around them both, pouting. 

“Maybe being a wife would suit you.”

This was probably a shameless flirt, but Y/N was either too stubborn or too proud to take it seriously. “Pfft, as soon as you can find a man who is willing to wed an author who would rather wear leggings over a dress her father sent to _Roma_ for and can cut up her own clothing with swordplay better than she can patch it with thread, tell me, and I should gladly marry him.”

“Even if that man were, say, Vieri?”

Y/N barked laughter. “The last we met, I punched him.”

Federico pursed his lips in mock thought. “What if it were... my brother?”

Y/N gawked at him, a smile fighting its way to her lips. “Federico, have you _met_ your brother?” 

“ _Si_ , but perhaps I do not know him as well as I should think?” 

She sighed. “Remember when he ran off with those traveling performers because he believed one of the ladies was in love with him?” 

He did remember that. One gymnast had winked at Ezio and incorporated him in her little routine-- it was likely all part of the act, but naive as he was at the time, his brother had by some stretch of the truth believed that she was interested in him. In a streak of adolescent rebellion, he decided to join their little brigade. It lasted less than a week, and the memory of his father dragging him back practically by the ear still brought a smile to Federico’s face. 

“I do not give any hints like that, _Ríco_ , false or otherwise. And especially not in pointed boots.”

They both chuckled at this, and Federico found himself gathering courage to say his next thought. 

“What if that man was me?”  


Fate did not permit him and answer, as just then a guard barked at them to get off the roof. Both flinched, exchanged a glance, and laughed, leaping to their feet and across the tiles as the man shouted after them. 

“it’s nearly midday!” she called to him suddenly over the sound of the wind in his ears. “I should get to work!”

“Already?”

“Aye, it is a rigorous life I lead! I will see you later!” She waited only for his wave of acknowledgement before leaping off the rooftop, no doubt cannonballing into a haystack below. He grinned when she disappeared and leapt himself into a hay cart. 

He was brushing thick strands of straw from his jacket when he happened upon his father. 

“Federico.”

“Father! You have returned!”

Giovanni Auditore bowed his head in the direction of his son as they fell into step. 

“Do not think I did not see your shenanigans with a certain young lady on my way into the city.” 

Federico’s chest jumped a little in guilt. “ _Ahh.._ _si, papà, mi dispiace._ We mean no harm.”

“I may know you don't,” his father assured, exchanging a look with him, “But the guards do not. It would be in poor image if my son and a respectable businesswoman were disciplined by the law.” 

“I will keep it in mind, _padre_.” 

There was a moment of silence, then Giovanni spoke again. “Your mother suggested having _signora_ Y/N over for supper sometime this week. I should hope my eldest child would at least introduce his romantic interest to his parents.”

“I do not think--” Federico began, but he stopped himself. “ _Non importa._ I will let her know you invited her.”

Giovanni granted his son a satisfied smile as they approached their _palazzo_. “Excellent.”


End file.
